


Upheld

by Ashida



Series: A Series of Unfortunate One Shots [14]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 18:39:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3579801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashida/pseuds/Ashida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today, he was determined to help, determined to take even a little of the burden off those shoulders. They were in a relationship, and isn’t that what you did in a relationship?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upheld

**Author's Note:**

> please have this humble offering to make up for the major character death and horrendous crack that I've posted recently :P

“Shit!” Akihito cursed under his breath- or lack there of - as he rounded the corner of a busy Tokyo street.

 

His chest heaved, he sucked in desperate lungful of glorious life giving oxygen one breath after another as he shucked his jacket and tried to blend in with the crowd. There was no way he’d lose them otherwise.

 

Whoever they hell they were had been on his tail for over 45 minutes, persistent, aggressive, and much more threatening than any of Asami’s men, or anyone that’d come after him before for that matter.

 

As usual, he didn’t have a clue what was going on, but he was going to find out, only after he didn’t feel like puking his lungs up and drowning himself in water all at the same time.

 

Man, he was really getting soft. It used to only be Suoh who could bring him to this point of exhaustion.

 

Putting those thoughts aside for now though, he matched his pace with the citizens around him, seamlessly becoming just another face in the crowd aside from his overly loud huffing and puffing.

 

He was getting further and further away from the men who’d only just rounded the corner, when the man who was undoubtedly the reason for the thugs hunting him called at that very moment, before Akihito had regained any semblance of proper breathing.

 

Well, fuck. Asami always seemed to have _impeccable_ timing.  


If he took too long to answer, he’d know something was up, if he answered sounding like he’d just run a damn marathon, he’d know something was up. If he didn’t answer, he’d know, if he answered too fast, he’d know.

 

Akihito didn’t want to burden Asami, he could deal with those guys himself after he figured out what was going on, he’d caused enough trouble for the crime lord already.

 

He answered the phone after a few rings with the most blasé - not just escaped a group of men chasing him - voice.

 

“What’s up?” he kept it short and cherry.

 

 _“You’re short of breath.”_ Was the blank reply.

 

Dammit, he hadn’t recovered enough yet.

 

“N-no, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stuttered.

 

 _“Akihito. Where are you?”_ the usual question came next, the one Asami always called to ask once he’d slipped passed the net.

 

“No where I shouldn’t be!” because it was true, he’d just been on his way to Kou’s when he picked up on the men on his tail.

 

 _“Get back to the penthouse and be good.”_ Came the bored drawl.

 

“Asami, this doesn’t have to do with the bastards that have been chasing me all morning does it? What’d you do now?” Akihito deadpanned; he was really over being the target of Asami’s enemies by now.

 

 _“…. Akihito, get back to the penthouse, now.”_ And was that a touch of urgency in Asami’s voice?

 

“It’s fine! I just lost them then.” He refuted, because he really didn’t want to trouble Asami.

 

But this time he didn’t get an answer, the pause on the other side was long, and that wasn’t like Asami at all.

 

“Asami, what’s wrong?”

 

 _“Akihito, I am asking you. Go back to the penthouse.”_ And that was most definitely urgency in his voice, enough to freeze him in his tracks because it was tinted with desperation and the tones of an _actual_ question.

 

“What’s happening? Tell me.” Akihito worried, Asami never used that tone.

 

A resigned breath, as if Asami was collecting himself _“Something has happened, Akihito, I need you to go home… Please.”_

Something was really, definitely wrong. It sent goose bumps down his spine, and the hairs on his neck itched.

 

“O-okay, I’ll head there right away.” Akihito complied, because if something was wrong enough for Asami to say please, to sound _so_ desperate and earnest like he did just did, then he couldn’t help but give in.

 

Because if Asami was freaked out, then Akihito sure as hell was too.

 

 

*****

 

 

Days went by, and Akihito was still designated to the penthouse. Normally he wouldn’t put up with such a farce, but security had since been increased, and so had the sense of unease.

 

The guards were all on high alert, the mail was checked, the doormen replaced, locks and access keys all changed, and to top it off; Akihito had been told to stay away from the windows - out of sight.

 

Something like this had happened once before and it hadn’t worried him, he had a feeling back then that everything was going to be fine, Asami hadn’t seem fazed by it, and it’d helped Akihito to stay relaxed, he’d felt safe, because Asami said it was so.

 

This time though, was not the same at all.

 

Asami came home irritable, smelling of gunpowder and too much nicotine because he smoked more when he was stressed.

 

Akihito had managed to pick up on a few of Asami’s nuances over the years, but never before had he seen so many so frequently.

 

The photographer decided it was better to humor Asami this time, because every day before he left; with a kiss on the head the crime lord whispered in his hair, _“Stay safe, please.”_

 

*****

 

 

Days turned into weeks, and whatever the situation was, it still wasn’t resolved, Asami even started wearing a bulletproof vest whenever he went out.

 

Akihito was starting to feel useless, two weeks it’d been. Two weeks and he’d stayed inside the condo with Kirishima doing their shopping, two weeks it’d been of men guarding the door, two weeks of him not being able to go out and help.

 

Two weeks of Asami saying please, and two weeks of the man coming home looking more tense than when he left.

 

That was the reason Akihito had stayed put, - because Asami had asked him too- but it was also the exact reason he felt so helpless. He’d accepted it was probably in his best interests to stay home anyway, but seeing Asami this wound up definitely wasn’t.

 

He wasn’t your usual definition of wound up. For Asami it was just a frustrated huff as he sat down, a crick of his neck, an extra whiskey, or a few extra Dunhills.

 

It was more than all that this time though, he was even shorter spoken than usual, his posture was stiff, not like the usual languid movements of his inner predator.

 

His shoulders looked more tense each day, and no matter how tired Akihito knew he was, the crime lord still stayed out later than usual, only to come home and toss and turn in the sheets to get up earlier than usual and repeat it all over again.

 

Asami never once complained though, and so Akihito could only sit back and feel incompetent because there wasn’t _anything_ he could do.

 

It was hard to watch, and it was even harder not to be relied on, even if it was only a little bit.

 

 

*****

 

 

Three weeks and Akihito had had enough of feeling this way.

 

Had enough of seeing those shoulders taut with stress and that neck strained with tension.

 

He knew it must be bad, bad enough for Asami not to tell him anything at all, but he couldn’t just sit back and watch anymore.

 

Today, he was determined to help, determined to take even a little of the burden off those shoulders. They were in a relationship, and isn’t that what you did in a relationship?

 

He waited until they finished dinner, until Asami was on his fourth whiskey, and was currently in the kitchen getting number five.

 

Akihito quickly took Asami’s spot on the couch as soon as the man left, he leant against the arm rest and placed one foot on the floor while the other stayed stretched out on the lounger.

 

Asami stopped in the doorway as he came back through and saw, one brow quirked in a tired, wordless question.

 

“Sit here!” Akihito invited, patting the space between his legs with a smile.

 

Asami stayed in the doorway looking skeptical.

 

“Come on, Asami.” He pleaded. “Please.” Now it was his turn to say that word.

 

That seemed to do the trick, because with a sigh, Asami moved out from the doorway, strode over to the couch and perched on the edge of the couch in between Akihito’s legs.

 

“What’s the point in this, Akihito?” came the query.

 

Woah, he was a little nervous now that he was actually presented with the situation, Asami’s rough hands could always work wonders, though in different ways, and Akihito wasn’t sure he’d be able to do the same.

 

But he’d done enough research, he just had to put it to practice on the expansive back in front of him.

 

“I just want to help.” he ran his hands up and along either side of the rigid spine, feeling muscles tight underneath the soft fabric of Asami’s robe.

 

“Akihito,” Asami near snapped,  “I told you, ther-”

 

“No, not that way.” He blurted before he could misunderstand any further, “This way.” And to show him, he ran his hands all the way up to his neck, which was _way_ too tight - he could feel the knots of tension already – and firmly circled his thumbs into the soft flesh at the nape.

 

The only response he got was a long, drawn out groan of stress leaving the man’s body, any other time that would have made Akihito’s pants tight, but he was entirely focused on his task, he _would_ do something to help.

 

“Asami, let me help you.” And with his whisper, he reached around the torso in front and squeezed the tightest hug he could muster, even now Asami was sitting rigid, in the privacy of their own home, he couldn’t bring himself to relax. He held on tighter still, as if he could squeeze all the troubles out like some child’s misguided belief.

 

Calloused, hard hands ran gently over the tops of his forearms with reassurance, “It’s nothing for you to be worried over.” Asami rumbled, it reverberated through his entire body, deep and warm.

 

“I’m not worried about that! I’m worried about you, idiot…” the blonde huffed against Asami’s back, glad that the crime lord couldn’t see his face.

 

He listened to an inhaled breath, counted the seconds as it was held, one, two, three, four, and _finally_ it was exhaled, drawn out and slow. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

 

“Yes, I do, because who else will, huh?” Akihito chastised, he’d really had enough now, “So shut up and let me help, bastard.”

 

“Fufu, it can’t be helped then.” And Akihito couldn’t help the smile that cracked his face because Asami _laughed_ which he hadn’t seen him do in weeks _,_ and with it, he relaxed a fraction. It was a good start, even if the man was only humoring him for now.

 

Determined, he sat back once more and pulled Asami’s robe down over his shoulders to reveal the smooth, perfect skin of Asami’s back.

 

God, he was so fucking nervous.

 

But Asami didn’t say a word, he sat there pliant as Akihito fished the special massage oil he’d asked Kirishima to fetch, out from where he’d hidden it underneath a cushion.

 

The only noise was the cap popping open, the click of it closing and the wet noises as Akihito rubbed it in his hands to warm it up.

 

With tentative touches he started back at the neck again, finding the knots of tension that needed rubbing out, there were so many; Asami was much more tight in his muscles than what he’d even been letting on.

 

Akihito almost despaired, because it must be uncomfortable, painful even, to walk around like this all day with an invisible weight bearing down on you, and Asami hadn’t said a single thing.

 

This back that he loved to rake his nails across, loved to trace the lines of power, and marvel at the definitive muscles that flexed with each movement.  
Asami’s back was always a sight to behold when it was exposed, the posture relaxed and imposing, confident, it gave off a feeling of reassurance, as if nothing would ever get beyond that godlike figure.

 

The back he was running his hands across now didn’t reflect that at all, the shoulders sat high, the shoulder blades not at their usual laxity, as if wound tighter and tighter together to defend from an impending threat from behind, the tendons in his neck were firm, as if he’d overused them from watching his surroundings more than usual.

 

He couldn’t stand it, he loathed that Asami was this troubled with no respite, that he couldn’t share it with him, so Akihito was going to do the only thing he could right now, and help those shoulders go back to what they should be.

 

With firm thumbs, and the palms of his wrists, he found all those spots of unease in Asami’s frame and rubbed them out one by one.  


First he started at the neck, he rubbed the tendons up and down, until slowly; Asami’s shoulders began to drop, and he seemed to relax into Akihito’s touch.

 

He continued down Asami’s back, the trap muscles, the deltoids, down his spine, his lats, under the shoulder blades, finding each discrepancy and working at it until it was gone.

 

Sometimes, Asami would grunt in discomfort at a particularly hard spot, but most of the time was spent humming in pleasure, groaning at an especially hard rub of his shoulders, or sighing in relief as one spot after another was taken care of.

 

Asami relaxed properly in front of him as it went on, as his muscles loosened, his posture grew more at ease, he leaned more and more into Akihito’s touch, until he was leaning so far back that Akihito was practically holding him up!

 

“Oi, Asa-”

 

“Just let me rest here for a bit, Akihito.” Asami mumbled, he’d fallen back against Akihito’s chest, practically snatched one of his arms and wrapped it around himself like a blanket.

 

And before the photographer could really discern what was happening, Asami had already fallen asleep in his lap.

 

 

The crime lord slept through the violent beating of Akihito’s heart, he looked serene now with his eyes closed and his breathing even, completely and utterly defenseless in Akihito’s arms.

 

This sort of inescapable truth hit him hard; and he was overcome with feelings that he couldn’t explain, all he could so was smile down at the sleeping face in front of him, and wrap the other arm around him too.

 

He didn’t think the crime boss would go this far, but he had, he _trusted_ Akihito enough to let down his guard, to unravel and fall asleep just like this.

 

The photographer didn’t feel useless anymore, in fact he felt fulfilled that he could do something like this for him.

 

“Bastard.” he murmured, “You should learn to depend on me more.”

 

Despite the oil still on Asami’s back getting on his shirt, despite the fact that Asami was half naked on top of him, Akihito fell asleep like that too, and it was the best sleep he’d had in weeks.

 

 

*****

 

He woke up alone the next morning, in bed and with a clean shirt on no less.

 

Near panicked, he sat up because he _knew_ Asami was already gone, the sense of emptiness when Asami was gone was always palpable.

 

With pants on, and his shirt just over his head, and perfect timing as always; his phone blared with the ringtone of Asami’s dedicated alert.

 

“Hey..” he croaked.

 

_“Stay safe today, Akihito.”_

“What, no please today?”

 

 _“Fufu, please stay safe, Akihito.”_ Came the endearingly sarcastic remark.

 

“That’s more like it.”

 

_“I’ll see you this evening.”_

“Oi!” he managed to cut in, because Asami always hung up like that, “You… stay safe too, um, please, I guess. Do your best! See you tonight, bye.”

 

And then it was Akihito that hung up with Asami’s chuckling on the other line, because he’d never said something to lame and wife like to him ever before and he was so fucking embarrassed that he was starting to regret it now, but if he could make Asami’s job a little easier with some encouragement, then he could throw his stupid prickly pride aside.

 

 

*****

 

 

The day had taken much longer than usual, perhaps because he was anxious to see Asami’s expression when the man came home, how bad was it today, how much had he taken upon those shoulders by himself?

 

So, when he heard the front door open and click shut again, he couldn’t help but make his way to the foyer before Asami made it to the lounge.

 

“W-welcome home.” He muttered, “How was you- oh. What happened?”

 

Akihito froze in his tracks in the hall, and stared at the man greeting him in the hallway.

 

There was Asami Ryuichi with his imposing shoulders and relaxed stance, at ease and practically ablaze with poise and conviction. He was back.

 

Gold eyes sparked, and the man closed in on him with a smirk, his movements fluid and graceful.

 

“Well, a certain someone told me to do my best today, so of course I couldn’t do anything less.” Came the drawl.

 

“So.. it’s all sorted out, whatever it was? H-how?” Akihito fought back a blush as Asami nuzzled at his neck with a low hum.

 

“How, you ask, mm? Let’s just say words like that give a man extra fighting spirit, fufu. Such an encouraging wifey, Akihito.”

 

All he could do was sputter indignantly, because on one hand Asami had called him _wifey_ and that was just no way, but on the other hand, putting himself out like that this morning had really helped.

 

Asami now was practically vibrating with renewed intensity, and if he’d been part of the cause for that, then he could oversee that wife comment.

 

“Wha?!” he burst out as he was hefted up by the thighs and carried down the hall, he had no choice but to hold on tight as to not fall, “What are you doing?!”

 

“It’s my turn to take all your worries away, my dear wifey.” Asami cooed as he kept striding down the hall, in the direction of their bedroom of course.

 

“I’m not your wifey!”

 

“Oh, I know, you’re much better than any wife could ever be, Akihito, thank you.”

 

And that shut Akihito right up, because that thank you was all he ever needed.


End file.
